#Jethro OC

[angelofalls]

[OC] Tyrus Titan VS. Ray Maximus / More Wrestlers from PAW

That old banner sketch from July, now in full color!

[cas-kingdom]

"If you steal my blanket one more time, I’m throwing you outside."

Maybe with NCIS or possibly Grey's?

I hope you are doing good!💛

"If you steal my blanket one more time, I'm throwing you outside."

"Your blanket? Who said you had dibs on it?"

"Uh, I did, when I said "I dibs the blanket.""

"Okay, I didn't even know we were dibsing anything then, so that doesn't count—"

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, did you want a warning?"

McGee, stuck beside the two bickering idiots for twenty minutes now with four hours to go, groaned. He hit his head against the back of his seat and wondered why he hadn't fought Ziva harder for the passenger seat.

Not that he would have won.

"Just—just give me a bit of it, at least."

"Not. A. Chance."

"God, you're so—"

"Handsome, talented, charming?"

"Infuriating."

He stared blankly at the road outside his window, longing for it to open so he could take a nosedive through it. Why they couldn't have gone in separate cars, he had no idea. Why they couldn't have stayed in a hotel when their plane was cancelled due to bad weather, he had even less of one.

"Anthony."

Tony gasped. "How do you know my name?"

"Either of you say another word and I'm throwing you both outside." McGee felt as though the heavens had opened and angels were floating down when Gibbs finally, finally, opened his mouth.

He’d said it without even turning around, his eyes on the road ahead, his voice casual and devoid of anything that might indicate he had been slowly losing his mind since he’d started driving. Emmie and Tony had been quiet in their squabbling, knowing from experience that any louder than a mutter and they'd be on the receiving end of more than a few choice words, but their on-off retorts were enough to drive anyone up the wall, no matter how loud they were. If Ziva weren't already asleep, completely wiped out by the case they were driving home from, she would have been on them from the moment they'd opened their mouths.

Gibbs glanced in the rear-view mirror as silence filled the car.

"I dibsed it," Tony mumbled under his breath.

"McGee, slap him for me, would you?"

McGee was all too happy to comply. Tony yelped.

"Dad, I—"

Gibbs lifted a finger. "I don't wanna hear another peep outta you or we're switching drivers now and I'm heading back there."

Emmie slunk down in her seat.

McGee took a breath of fresh, quiet, peaceful air and let himself relax.

And when the car stopped two hours later to let Ziva and Gibbs switch places, Tony and Emmie were asleep against each other, the blanket spread across the both of them.

NCIS Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[momentaryescape]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Gibbs x Agent!Reader Warnings: Cursing Word Count: 1406 A/N- When I wrote this the vibe for Gibbs is similar to how he acts at the end of season 7 episode 23 when he is taking to the lawyer. It seems really specific but gives an idea for the vibe.

“Was any of it true?” The anger you tried to hide was boiling inside you. You thought you meant something to him. That it was real and not pretend. But here you were, standing in his living room feeling like a fool.

“You knew what this was. It was fun y/n, nothing more. I don’t know what made you think this would be anything but that.” Gibbs seemed like his normal emotionless self. Hell by the looks of it he seemed more annoyed you were bothering him with this conversation

“For months you would get mad if a guy even so much as looked in my direction. Tony brought me coffee and you dismissed him over some bullshit thing he didn’t even do. Mcgee gave me his coat after mine got fucked chasing down a perp and you ignored him for the rest of the case. So nothing my ass Jethro. You want to act like it was nothing but I know that deep down you felt something.” That was your breaking point. You grabbed your stuff before leaving his home, slamming the door on the way out.

~~~~~

“Hey y/n, everything good?” Mcgee gave you a questioning look.

“I’m fine.” You snapped.

“Ohhkay.” Mcgee’s seemed shocked at the outburst.

“Fuck. Sorry Mcgee. I had a rough night. I'm better now, some things have been cleared up.” You smiled back.

“Well if you want a different kind of rough, let me know.” You Didn't see Tony walk up behind you, his comment making you jump in your seat.”Here, brought you coffee.”

“Thank you Tony.” You shot him a flirty smile. Tony winked back at you before sitting at his desk.

Gibbs was watching the entire interaction play out from his desk. He knew what you were trying to do. The remarks of a rough night, the flirty look at Tony. You were trying to get under his skin. He hated it. Not just what you were doing but the fact that it was working.

It had been a few days since the moment you had in Gibbs’ living room. There hadn’t been any new cases the past few days, so the team was catching up on paperwork. Disrupting the silence, Gibbs slaps a hand on your desk.

“Can I help you?” You don’t even bother looking up, already knowing who it is.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Gibbs snapps through gritted teeth. Irritation clearly written across his face.

“Work Gibbs. I have a job to do and that's what I plan on doing.” You still hadn’t looked up from your computer.

“Agent l/n, I expect you to look at me when I’m talking to you.” His outburst drew the attention of everyone around. Questionable faces wondering what the hell was happening.

“Careful Jethro, people might think you have emotions, wouldn't want that to happen.” You looked up at him, clearly annoyed with his presence. Your quip had also clearly pissed him off.

“Leave.” His voice had a bite to it.

“Why? You're the one who came over to my desk, got annoyed I was focused and not looking up at you, and now you want me to leave? I get it, you're the boss man, but I still deserve respect. So give me one valid reason that I need to leave, aside from hurting your “feelings”.”

“Y/n-” Zive tried cutting in before things got more heated.

“Thank you but I’ve got this Ziva. I'm not scared of an emotionally immature man who thinks he can stab me with his words like pins. You want to act all big and bad, but we both know what you are.” You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.

“Thats it agent l/n. You need to leave, and until you can act like an adult don't feel the need to come in.” Gibbs was pissed. At this point he was practically yelling.

“Gladly. I would rather be anywhere but near the smallest man who ever lived.” With that you grabbed your bag, collected what you would need to finish your work from home and started toward the elevators.

~~~~~

Gibbs knew he had fucked up. Both in front of everyone and during the original fight. He had cared. He loved to show you off, but always made sure nobody the two of you knew could see. He was a private man, he told himself. But looking back you're the only person he hid. He felt ashamed. You were younger, happier, all the things he wasn't you were.

And now here he was, at your front door. He straightened his stace before knocking on the door. At first he thought you might not be home, but that thought was whipped away when he saw your frame in the open door. He heard you scoff, before asking him what he was doing there.

“I wanted to apologize.” He stated with a small hint of softness.

“Really?” You were calling his bluff.

“Yes, I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone. We should've talked privately.” You rolled your eyes at his statement.

“Yeah I tried that with you, remember? What was what started thin. I wanted to talk and you acted like it was nothing. I'm over it. I can deal with arguments, but being pretty much getting told I was delusional for believing that we had something killed any spark I had.” You meant every word.

“I’m trying here y/n.” His plea fell on deaf ears.

“Next time don't think “I’m sorry” will fix all your problems. You're a grown man Gibbs, act like it.”

“Its always the dramatics with you isn't it?” You scoffed at his remark. “Listen, I meant what I said. What we had, it was great. I’m sorry I said it was only fun. I had feelings for you, but we both knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Why not? Was it not fun once it wasnt forbidden? Once we were seen together was the thrill gone?” You thought back on all the times he would make excuses not to be seen with you. You felt stupid.

“Don't act like you didn't know that this was only meant to be between the two of us.” He knew he was pushing your buttons, but he kept going.

“Are you that ashamed of me? Years of friendship, months of passion, and after that you still hide me away. I don't want to be some secret.” You wanted to smack his chest, cause the same pain he caused you.

“Do you not understand what would happen if they knew? How many rules I broke every time we were together?” He was yelling at this point.

“You know what the saddest part was? I would have died for you, but instead I just died inside. And you deserve prison but you won't serve the time.” You felt hot tears fall from your eyes. The realization you allowed yourself to cry over him fueled your anger. “It's over Gibbs. No second chance. No “it's different this time”. And no more acting like I’m nothing. We still work together. And as much as I would love to say "Good riddance", I love my job too much. I will take punishment for the show he had in the office, but I will not let you take my career.”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked at you, trying to read your expression. Without saying anything you walked to the door, opening it. A silent tell for him to leave. Taking in a slow deep breath you turn to face him. “Leave Gibbs, please.”

“I understand you're hurt y/n, and I know I'm the reason. I will still have your back, and I will still be your boss. But for both our sakes, I think it's best we keep the rest of the details between the two of us.”. You watched him walk out your door, down your steps to his car, and drive away from your home, shutting the door when you could no longer see him. And just like that it was over. No more late nights after cases where you end up in bed together, mornings shared over fresh coffee, and one less friend. Maybe some day the two of you could be friends again, but as for now that wasn’t something either of you wanted, or more realistically could handle.

[naginatah]

[poorlywrittenbutentertaining]

Hit it off

Gibbs x fem!OC

Warnings: canon typical violence, light swearing, bomb, concussion

How Elaine and Gibbs met

Elaine smiled at the delivery man as he dropped off the package. She signed for the box before the delivery man nodded at her and walked away.

“I need to move this to the cooler,” She said. The nurse next to her nodded and Elaine grabbed the box. It felt strangely heavy for a shipment of vaccines. She pulled open the cooler room and stepped in. She heard a click from the box and froze as the door to the cooler shut behind her. Slowly she transferred the box to one arm and pulled the tape of the top. She opened the flaps and gasped. Inside was an amalgamations of wires, and a brick of explosive material. Elaine looked at the blinking light and swallowed thickly. A nurse opened the cooler behind her.

“Dr. wright?” The nurse asked. Elaine straightened.

“Ynez, I need you to call the authorities,” Elaine spoke evenly.

“Why?” Ynez stepped into the room.

“STOP!” Elaine barked. She heard Ynez’s footsteps cease. Elaine took another deep breath and watched the air puff in front of her, “Ynez I am currently holding a bomb, call the police.”

~~|

It was a matter of minutes before NCIS was on the scene. Elaine heard the cooler door ease open.

“Dr. Wright?” A male voice called from behind her.

“That’s me,” Elaine said. She heard careful footsteps enter the cooler. Out of her peripheral she saw a man step around her, “close the door,” She said, “these medications need to stay cold.”

The door clicked shut or clicked shut. She turned her eyes towards the man. He was tall with silver hair and some of the bluest eyes Elaine had ever seen. She gave him a slightly nervous smile as he stepped around him.

“Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS,” The man showed her his badge and is card.

“Gibbs,” Elaine smiled slightly and laughed, “I know that name.”

“Yeah? How?” Gibbs asked.

“My godfather works with you,” Elaine said, “Donald Mallard.”

“Ducky,” Gibbs said back. Elaine nodded.

“He would not be all too pleased to know I’m currently holding a bomb,” Elaine said.

“You’re calm for the circumstances,” Gibbs said.

“Not my first rodeo, agent Gibbs,” Elaine said.

“Military?” Gibbs asked. Elaine nodded.

“Marines,” Elaine said, “fought with the boys out front for two tours, got a back injury, and then returned to do medical. Back in the tents they called me Ms. Mend,” she looked Gibbs up and down, “you a military man?”

“Marines,” Gibbs said, “Gunnery Sergeant.”

Elaine smiled, “Staff Sergeant.”

Gibbs cracked a small smile, “bomb squad should be here soon.”

Gibbs sat and talked with her, feeling the chill from the cooler slowly slip past his clothes and into his skin. When the bomb squad arrived Elaine’s lips had begun to turn blue but she stayed still, suppressing the shivers threatening to course through her. The squad pushed in and took Gibbs spot as they began setting up barriers and getting to work. Her muscles strained to keep the bomb up in her arms. There was a silent tension as the men around her worked. Gibbs returned eventually and placed a coat around her shoulders gently. Elaine could only manage a chattered, “thanks.”

It was 45 minutes before the bomb squad cut the final wire and carefully took the explosive from Elaine’s hands. A crushing relief washed over her as she dropped her arms and allowed the shivers to run through her. When she stepped out of the hospital Ducky stood there with a hot coffee and blanket. Elaine rushed to him and allowed the doctor to gather her in his arms. Her whole body shivered from the aching cold her body had been exposed to for so long.

“Jethro called me and I got here as fast as I could, my dear,” Ducky said, “are you alright?” His voice was soft as he pulled away and held her shoulders. He unfolded the blanket and threw it around her shoulders, pulling it snug against her. Elaine nodded

“M-my patients?” She asked, taking the coffee and holding it in her hands, reveling in the warmth that seeped through the cup.

“All safe and accounted for,” Ducky said, “now, Jethro wants me to take you back to the Navy Yard. He has a few questions.”

Elaine nodded and followed him to his car.

~~~~

The conference room was quiet as Elaine sat. She studied the map hung on the wall opposite of her. When the door opened and closed she stood and turned.

“Doin’ alright Sarge?” Gibbs asked as he walked in, holding yet another warm drink for her. Tea this time.

“Just call me Elaine,” She said, “I’m doing alright, a little cold but nothing too bad.” Gibbs nods and takes the end seat next to Elaine. He gives her a moment to sip her tea. He observes her quietly.

“Who gave you the bomb?” Gibbs asked.

“Delivery guy,” Elaine answered, “it was supposed to be a shipment of insulin, and it wasn’t the normal guy who delivers.”

“What did he look like?” Gibbs continued to interview her, taking notes on what she said and descriptions she gave, “can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”

Elaine huffed a laugh, “yeah, a few.” She sighed and placed her tea down, “marines, mostly, ones I had to take off the battlefield for medical purposes. Amputees, transplants, those kind. They get mad about their injuries, and then get madder when I have to fix them.”

Gibbs nodded and jotted down a few notes, “we’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Thanks, gunny,” Elaine stood and shook Gibbs’ hand once more, “if you have any more questions-“ she took out a small pad of paper from her pocket and a pen. She jotted down her number and folded the piece up, handing it over to Gibbs, “just gimme a call.”

~~~

Elaine’s house was quiet as she flicked the lights on. She placed her purse down on the entrance table and kicked her shoes off in front of the rack. She sighed and rolled her shoulders before working out her braid. It had been a week since the hospital incident. Gibbs had called her a few times to ask a few more questions but other than that it was practically radio silence.

She padded into the kitchen and grabbed some leftover Chinese from the fridge and popped it into the microwave. As she leaned against the counter she looked down at her phone. As though on command it began to ring. The caller is reading ‘Gunny Sergeant Gibbs”. She flipped her phone open and answered the call.

“Awfully late for a work call, agent Gibbs,” She said as she pulled the Chinese from the microwave.

“Just had a few questions,” Gibbs answered. Elaine hummed and went to sit down.

“What’s up?”

“Do you know a Petty Officer Garrett Blanche?” Gibbs asked.

“Yeah, came in three months ago. He had practically shattered his leg. I placed 4 rods and 12 screws to get that thing back together,” Elaine took a bite, “he should be doing PT now, no way they’ll let him stay active though. Didn’t seem the type to blow me up though.”

“They never do,” Gibbs said. Elaine laughed lightly at that. She stood up, and then black.

~~~

When she woke again she was on her kitchen floor, the Chinese noodles spread by her hand, “Elaine?” There was a hand on her back as a blurry face came into view, “you alright?” She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again as a ringing began in the back of her head and a thump began pounding in her skull. The face blurred and crossed. She blinked a few more times and it came into view.

“Agent Gibbs?” She croaked, “what happened?”

“Took a metal bat to the head,” Gibbs said. She moved to sit up and her head swam, nausea roiling in her stomach. She swayed and Gibbs caught her, “careful, paramedics are still on their way.”

“Damn,” Elaine put her hand against the back of her head and came back with blood.

Elaine’s eyes blurred again and she leaned heavily on Gibbs, “whoa, you staying with me Doc?”

“How did you know I got hit? Are you stalking me?” Elaine asked.

“We were on the phone, remember?” Gibbs scooted her to the counter cupboards and leaned her against it as he stood and grabbed a cloth. He soaked it in tepid water and pressed it against her head, “I was asking you questions about Petty Officer Blanche.”

Elaine’s eyes squinted, “no… I don’t remember. I remember coming home… and then… and then…”

“Don’t worry too much, we got the guy, that’s what matters,” Gibbs squatted in front of her. Her focused eyes relaxed before zeroing in on Gibbs.

“You know-“ Elaine reached up and grabbed his hoodie string, “you’re really handsome.”

“You’re delirious, Elaine,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah probably,” Elaine closed her eyes, “but I’m not kidding… you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve met. Ever. You could never have been my Gunny or I would have been distracted. And in your civvies? Like damn. You look good in a suit, Agent Gibbs, but red is your color.”

Gibbs laughed lightly as the paramedics knocked. They entered the house and began inspecting Elaine while Gibbs described what happened.

“She’s a little delirious but that should clear, she shouldn’t be alone though,” The paramedic said to Gibbs. He nodded, “anywhere she can stay?”

Gibbs looked at the clock. It was 3:00 AM at this point, “she can stay with me.”

A/N: leave of comment on what you want to see next!

[dailyhatchetfield]

day 295 - @ocweek day seven ; free day

jet light (left) belongs to @tnoy-keraxis + arthur otto belongs to me !!

[sky-fan-fic]

Years ago, I saw one of those reader x attractive male lead things for NCIS in which the reader was Gibbs’ daughter and I was really interested in that dynamic. I assumed she was a child from his first marriage, making her not only the daughter of his lost lenore but the sister of his lost daughter. Once they were a happy family of four, now she’s an only child and he’s a serial spouse who sleeps in an arm chair. I imagine him becoming closed off, leaving her feeling completely alone. I imagine her watching him become a father figure to his team while his relationship with his own child is so strained and the resentment she must feel. But I also think they could heal and repair their relationship so there’s a possible happy ending.

This has also led me to think about other fictional characters as dads. I’ve been watching House recently. Greg House would have an abysmal relationship with his kid. And also his kid would think Wilson is also their dad.

This is partly about tragic family relationships. It’s also about how Wilson and House are basically married.

[wenmistry]

Doomed parents and their doomed little guy <3

[princehoneytea]

[ oc ] rough little doodles daydreaming about making some kind of freddi fish style point and click

[yongi]

st spells and au...... :3

[angelofalls]

[OC] - Jethro and LYNX

He noticed them!! <3

[cas-kingdom]

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

[chacolacereal]

JETHRO!! My old hard to draw favorite Jet, Jeth, Jethro, meanie, jerk, I'm reporting you, ...etc

The first character to be created not specifically for this story (he was originally an animal crossing oc) who's personality was based off of a silly crush at first and then morphed into something else entirely. This socially inept cat man is notoriously bad at small talk and would much rather spend his time going to work, not talking to anyone, getting paid, and going home. What he does at home is anyone's guess.

He usually does custodial work around the store where everything takes place and is the one to first notice when the Ghost Programs start getting out of control in the PC-Platina. Jet tends to ignore all customer service responsibilities but can be pretty quick with snide remarks if pestered too much. To his friends though, Jethro laughs super loud, jokes about utter nonsense a lot, and is very easy to fluster when you get in their personal space. In the end, he's very awkwardly fun to be around, when he lets you be around him.

[naginatah]

[helluvamystery]

Sometimes the Bad Guy: Sun and Moon

[gerhardtz]

July in January - Independence Day

A Different Kind of Independence - Oneshot | 2,105 words

The fireworks never felt justified.

For Thursday, July In January Fest 2025: Independence Day